Doctor's Recommendation :..: KnockOut/Flipside : smut :
Never in all of his vorns of living had KnockOut met such a femme that was reckless in battle. Arcee was a piece of art in battle, fluid but swift, whereas Airachnid was just as fluid, but she fought with more intent to kill. But when Flipside entered the Med-Bay, covered in injuries and leaking energon, he knew her fighting style; choppy and (a bit) frantic.
Which was strange, since all the times before, she returned from fights unscathed. She was usually a beauty in battle, one to watch slip around her opponents unnoticed and deliver a blow enough to stun someone. She knew the art of war inside and out, and she showed it in the way her limbs moved, how she rotated her hips just enough to pull her ped back and slam it forward.
KnockOut coud see that she was in desperate need of buffing just with a sideglance, but looking her head-on determined why she was behaving strangely. Her helm might've been bowed out of "respect", but he could see the coolant in her violet optics. She must've fought Airachnid again, which meant her processor was on one thing - or rather, one mech.
Breakdown.
He knew that they had been sparkmates - hell, sparkbound - long before the huge mech was offlined, and since Flipside had been present to see the light leave his optics, she hadn't been the same since. She had stabbed Airachnid with her own extra limb, had called KnockOut for immediate medical assistance. After all, it had been Breakdown that barely managed to tell the Medical Officer to forget about it. When she had returned, it had not been pretty.
Even now, with her usual stoic expression on her faceplates, the coolant merely dripped from her optics without consent.
Out of respect, KnockOut worked in silence, repairing her wounds and patching up the cut wires without a sound. It wasn't until he was finished and she was still crying that an idea formed in his head. Shouldn't be too hard; after all, he was the most attractive Decepticon in the force.
"All finished," he drawled out as he usually did, watching her sit up straighter (but somehow still manage to slouch) and look at him. She didn't bother to wipe the coolant, letting it cascade down the smooth metal of her cheeks. Despite the situation, as well as the foreign sense of anxiety that doubled as arousal, she still served as the most beautiful femme in all the galaxies.
If he was to speak the truth loud and clear, he had been attracted to her long before she and Breakdown sparkbonded, but out of respect, he backed off immediately. He was not eager to see his partner join the Well of All Sparks so soon, especially when they shared their own history, but he was a Doctor. It was his duty to better his patients, both physically and emotionally.
"What's the doctor's recommendation for a swift recovery?" Her voice, sensual as usual, broke him from his daze. He smirked, shaking away his doubts about what he was about to do. Resting his servos beside her thighs, he could feel the femme stiffen at the threat of contact. KnockOut leaned closer to her faceplates, slowly dragging his servos closer until they were finally touching her leg.
"He recommends a long," he could see her struggling, "fulfilling interface." Flipside's expression reacted instantly, growing colder as she made a weak attempt to move away, but she was staring into his crimson optics. KnockOut was no fool, he fragged enough femmes (and mechs) to know that his optics were alluring, especially when they revealed nothing but carnal desire.
The CMO didn't allow her to make a protest (he knew she would), tilting his helm and leaning forward. His lips brushed momentarily against her coolant covered one, only a nano-klik's hesitation before he was sure of himself. He kissed her, optics opened to see her expression. She was stoic, as usual, but her optics were swimming with too many emotions that he could tell she was torn.
"Flipside," his voice sounded pained, and he pulled away to speak to the conflicted femme. "I know what you're going through. We both lost a lover, past or present when it happened, but you seem to be taking the brunt of it. Pain isn't the best feeling, whether on Cybertron or Earth, but I can help you forget it. Just give me one night. Let me help you."
KnockOut wasted no time in locking lips with her again, pushing his servos around her waist and drawing her closer to him. His optics closed before he could see her reaction, and for once he didn't move with confidence. He didn't flick out his glossa like he should've, or grinded his hips against her's, and that was because of her.
For once, he wasn't interested in fragging for fragging; he cared for her. Flipside was important to him, so seeing her so devastated over the death of Breakdown didn't settle well with him. She didn't usually smile, but she was never this emotionless before. As he said before, he cared for her more than he cared for anyone else, perhaps even his bearer.
So when she tentatively pushed at his chassis, he didn't linger like his spark wanted to; he pulled away without a second thought. She didn't say a word, maintaining optic contact with the bright red mech, and at first he had no idea why. Then he saw her leaning back, pressing herself against the berth under her. KnockOut, who had interfaced with more Cybertronians (and some skinjobs) than he could count on all his digits, was suddenly clueless.
It wasn't until Flipside slowly spread her legs apart that he got the idea to stop staring with his mouth hanging open and fragging climb onto her. After all, he was not one to leave a femme waiting.
He finally smirked down at her, relieved that she accepted his advances, so even if this was a one time thing, he would make the most of it. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to say the words he was dying to come out of her lips. She obliged.
"Make me forget, KnockOut."
The mech chuckled lustfully at how she managed to sound so beautiful yet so damn sexual at the same time. "Of course," thankful his voice processor didn't shut down just by the way she stared at him, he leaned over her and kissed her again. While one servo held up his weight, the other crept between her legs, gently scraping against her interface panel.
The sensation caused her to quiver where she lay, mouth opening to let out an unexpected moan, and he took advantage of that, slipping his glossa between her lips. He felt her chassis lurch upwards at the feel of it, and he laughed into her mouth. His glossa sucked on hers, taking nearly total control of the situation.
He never heard the smaller femme mewl, but as he stroked her panel with his digits and massaged her glossa, she let out such cute little gasps and moans that only fueled his yearning to hear more from her. KnockOut never had the honor of making her moan so loud it woke everyone aboard the Nemesis, not like he sometimes heard her do whenever she was alone with Breakdown.
KnockOut's servo stopped just above her panel, taking exceedingly long to press all the right wires and pressure points, and it slid away when he finished. (Whether that was because she was just as eager as him, or if he did it correctly was beyond him.) Underneath him, Flipside gasped as she let her head fall back, finally taking her glossa back from him.
"You know, with how you're behaving, I'd think Breakdown deprived you of ever interfacing," the comment didn't seem to be comprehended, thankfully. "But any self respecting mech wouldn't let a femme like you go without any fun after a long day." Her own servo came up to her mouth, and he tilted his helm when he saw her biting her digit. He processed the action and smirked, dragging a single digit just outside her valve (which was already beginning to drip).
It was time to show her why so many mechs and femmes would do anything to frag him again.
"Nuh uh uh," he drawled out, taking the liberty to use his free servo to grab the digit she had in her mouth. "The only one that can bite you is me." He grazed his denta against the metal of her digit, before wrapping his lips around it and gently biting down. Her reaction was enough to make him drip right there, her optics dragging out a blink as she curled up against him. He nearly allowed his digit to fully enter her valve, but he was quick enough to catch himself.
The femme fell back against the berth a moment later, her body twitching as he continued touching her. His mouth didn't move, though he loosened up enough to lick the spot he'd bitten before. Flipside let out a shaky breath, optics closing to help her get used to the feeling. Except he didn't let her, popping open his mouth and pushing himself down to her spread thighs.
She raised her head enough and peeked one eye open, and KnockOut heard the distinct sound of her fans whirring to life. He was already having an effect on her, and he wasn't even halfway through the pleasure. The CMO chuckled at her appearance; the ever graceful Flipside reduced to an excited mess at his servos.
It didn't take long for her to guess what he was up to, so when his glossa flicked out and made contact with her open valve, her servos clenched onto the berth as she arched upwards. Armor gleaming in the light above her helm, he could see the violet in her eyes almost dance at the sensation. His optics didn't dare close, scarlet shining with arousal at her actions as he took a long lick at the lubricant that stuck to her entrance.
Her squirm was enjoyable, her body shaking uncontrollably at the sensation he must've shot through her frame. KnockOut, instead of slowing down, picked up his pace, using his servos to grip her legs apart as he swallowed the liquid that dared to drip onto the floor of the Med-Bay. He couldn't have that, especially if Lord Megatron decided to pay a visit a couple cycles later and happened to see lubricant on the floor. That would be quite unprofessional.
(Though it wouldn't be the first time.)
"If you continue to squirm so," KnockOut mumbled from where he was, "I won't be the only one to see you like this. You don't want that, do you?" He peered up at her to see her manage to nod, and his lips grew into a devious smirk. "Good femme." He pushed forward, glossa dragging across the top of her valve in the way most femmes found satisfying beyond words.
Flipside threw her helm back, moaning so terribly loudly that it made him sigh in contentment. She brought herself to her elbows and looked at him through clouded optics, fans frantically working to cool down her systems. He doubted she even remembered how they began fragging, which was his goal. "Don't tease me, KnockOut. Just," her helm fell back when he gave her one last lick. "Frag, just-"
"I know what you want," KnockOut finally climbed over her, feeling his own systems heat up at the sight before him. His spike pressed against his own interfacing hatch, nearly making him twitch at the feeling, but he managed to hold it back. "You want me to frag you until you can barely walk. You want to forget that any Vehicon or Officer could saunter in here and see you spread out like you are, or the fact that there's a war going on around us. You want to scream all sorts of words at me until your voice processor shuts down from strain. You want me to pleasure you until you overload enough times to make you think you've overdone it, and then you want to overload again." A snicker laced his words as he watched her shake.
"Luckily for you, I happen to specialize in all those things."
He heard the sound of his interfacing panel retreating, felt his spike brush against the metal until the cold air hit it, and he smirked down at her. He saw her glance down at it, before her optics quickly looked into his, no clear uncertainty in her optics. She wanted this badly. And he would provide.
The CMO wasted no time, thrusting into her valve without another noise, not even as she tightened around him, her moan carrying through the empty room. His processor momentarily turned to the doors, which showed no signs of opening, so he looked back at her. His servos gripped onto her hips, and with a teasing wink, he began.
His thrusts had a rhythm at the start; mockingly slow, not thrusting too deep on purpose. KnockOut enjoyed the delicious expression on her face, a mixture of sexual torture and a want for more. Their optics locking, Flipside took the lead long enough to meet one of his thrusts, and he shook at the sudden shock of pleasure that overtook him. Her moans were louder than ever, her optics momentarily offlining at the sensation she must've felt.
He must've slammed right against her ceiling node. And now that he knew where it was located...
KnockOut's optics shimmered with all impure intentions. "Big mistake," he purred.
He retreated from her valve (already coated thick with lubricant), only to slam back into her with enough force that he was certain he hit her ceiling node. Flipside lurched her chassis upward, the hot metal pressing against his. He continued thrusting into her, her body spasming each time he brushed against the perfect spot.
With her moaning his name under him, body quaking as her fans worked desperately to cool her down, violet optics wide open and looking directly into his own crimson optics, he realized something; no matter how attractive she usually was when she was composed, she looked all the more alluring when she was under him, begging for more. KnockOut couldn't get enough of her.
Lubricant leaked out of her valve with each thrust, dropping onto the floor and coating his spike in her rich liquid. He smirked down at her, lowering himself to press his lips to hers, and she wrapped a single arm around his neck to pull herself closer to him. With each thrust he reached deeper into her, and she moaned into his mouth. Flipside was absolutely desireable like this.
There was no actual warning except her valve tightening around his spike, and lubricant came rushing out, and while he often cared for his finish, he didn't feel so bothered that it coated his pedes. But he didn't stop, pushing his spike deep into her until the time came where he was close. KnockOut wasn't so composed then, grunting quietly to match her moans and gasps, his glossa sucking harshly on her's, and she hit overload again moments before he finally reached it.
His overload was just as dirty, his liquid mixing with her's and leaked onto the metal floor of the Med-Bay. It slid down her legs, which was falling limp as she carefully pulled herself from him. Reluctantly pulling out of her, the lubricant left inside her spilled out onto the berth, and he wondered just how many times she had reached overload without him noticing.
KnockOut lingered for a moment, spike left out as he breathed heavily (though he didn't really need to breathe, and neither did she). Their mixed liquids felt cold against his overheated ped, and it must've felt just as cold against her thighs. After a second, he pulled his spike back and closed his interfacing hatch, whereas Flipside allowed her panel to remain open for the time being.
Deciding to do her one last favor, he dragged himself off of her and crouched down, inspecting the lubricant on the berth before using his glossa to clean her valve of the liquid. The berth and the floor could wait; she needed immediate attention.
(It was incredible how quickly he was becoming aroused again. Did he have no limits?)
(Oh wait, he didn't.)
Ignoring the carnal desire that was growing once again, he felt her shift her position to rest her pedes on the edge of the berth, legs propped open to allow him better access to her valve. KnockOut glanced up at her, surprised to see that she didn't seem stoic, or even ashamed of herself. Instead, she was the one offering him a smirk.
Standing up straight, his glossa licked his lips free of the substance, to which her optics closed as a shiver slowly racked her body. He chuckled under his breath, his digit trailing towards her still open valve. Maybe it was too early to call it quits. After all, she was giving him the ok to continue. She didn't have to say it this time.
"I live to serve."